#it occurred to me I never shared the proper link to chapter 2 here so uh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maraudersmessrs · 7 years ago

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Remus Lupin and the Prisoner of Azkaban--- Chapter 10: Adjustment Period

Ao3 link

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29 / Chapter 30 / Chapter 31 / Chapter 32 / Chapter 33 / Chapter 34

Fully sated after the opening feast--truly, more full than he had been in probably years-- Remus managed to stroll accurately enough to get him to the right wing and floor for the staffroom. He had never, however, had occasion to actually find where it exactly was; unlike Prongs, who had apparently had quite the prank planned for 5th year in there that had been thwarted by McGonagall. There was a pause on his easy stride when he realized exactly how seamlessly the nickname had fit back into his thoughts. He gazed around the vast stone hall and smiled, a little sadly. It made it easy, this place, to recall what he had had here.

Someone was watching him. The uneasy prickle on the back of his neck would usually have put him on the defensive in the Muggle world, but his internal danger barometer was as low as it had ever been. Probably even less so than when he was a student, as he wasn't angling to pull some disruptive caper, now. He glanced around, casually, expecting some ghost or a portrait and locked eyes with a livid looking Severus Snape, standing at the head of the staircase behind Remus.

“Severus--” was startled out of him, but before he could even form a coherent thought, the man strode toward him and whipped out his wand. Remus’ own hand spasmed toward his own in shock, but he stopped himself with an effort. He kept his hands empty at his side.

“I don't know what you're playing at, mutt, but I'm the one who is going to be making your monthly potions. If you so much as wander down the wrong corridor I might make an unfortunate mistake,” Snape hissed through his teeth, not brandishing the wand but holding it hard at his side, as if he expected Remus to start hexing him.

He blinked, utterly bewildered. “Nice to see you too, Severus, hope you had a nice summer…”

Snape's pale face twisted further into a snarl. “You--”

Remus held up a placating hand, chastising himself for antagonizing him. Bad habits… “I apologize, but, honestly, Severus, I don't have any idea what you could be talking about. What potion? And what exactly would I be trying?” He tried to keep anything that could be construed as mocking out of his tone. Snape seemed to be in some kind of towering paranoia that Remus just could not parse.

Remus had never liked the man, even if he had felt sympathy and guilt toward the things James and Sirius had done to him. He hadn't deserved to be mistreated, but he had run with the crowd who had all developed into Death Eaters; those that favored pure blood and societal cleansing. Remus being who and what he was, they would never see eye to eye, but he trusted Dumbledore enough that he believed Snape to no longer be a Dark Wizard. He had no desire to be openly hostile toward him.

Snape scoffed and studied him a moment. His aggressiveness seemed to be melting into merely intense suspicion. “I know about you and I know about Black and I know about your “condition.” I have made it clear to Dumbledore that you cannot be trusted and while he seems to think he can let you back in the castle, I am unconvinced. You’ve already shown yourself to be lacking in moral fiber. You’re a danger to everyone in this castle. Which is why Dumbledore is practicing charity and having me make you the Wolfsbane Potion; it’s not as if you could afford it otherwise,” he added, nastily.

Remus’ mind was whirling at the train of thought that Snape was dragging him through, trying to find his footing and trying to find his proper reaction. The accusations stung a bit, though not as much as they would from someone whose opinions he actually cared about, and he wondered at what tact he ought to take. Responsible, he sighed inwardly, undoubtedly. “Well...I can assure you I would never help a criminal harm children. If you know me and you know Si--Black, then you know how much he has also taken from me and...I would hope...you would leave room to grow as a person. Given your own story.” As Snape’s nostrils flared, he moved on. “And I wasn’t told I would be able to utilize the Wolfsbane Potion that’s…” he was honestly boggled at the thought. He had heard vague rumors of something like that being developed, as disconnected from the Wizarding world as he was, but never had ever entertained the thought of what it would be like, for he would never have the resources to try it. “Amazing, frankly. Thank you, Severus. I really...I really do regret how things were when we were at school. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want your apologies. You and your opinion mean nothing to me--” Well, at least we’re on the same page, the irritated James-voice quipped. “And nothing you could say would ever make up for the fact that you don’t belong here and you never did. Monsters don’t belong at Hogwarts. Keep your regrets,” he sneered, “The only reason I’m tolerating you is because Dumbledore is on your side. For now.”

“No wonder my ears are burning, I’m being discussed,” came a pleasant voice from behind Severus, who turned whirled as Dumbledore serenely crested the stairs. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

“None.” Snape glanced disdainfully at Remus. “Sir.” He swept away, down the corridor.

The 2 of them watched him go, silently, until he was out of sight. “Everything alright, Remus?”

He took a breath. “Not an official complaint, mind, but I do believe he doesn’t like me.”

The joke surprised a chortle out of the Headmaster. “It may have been mentioned.”

“We treated him like crap.”

Dumbledore stayed thoughtfully silent.

“I had hoped that maybe we could be adults about this. I wanted to apologize.”

Dumbledore sighed. “People use their experiences in different ways; some to learn, some to strengthen. Some to embitter and hold their wounds close to fester. Severus never seemed one too keen on personal introspection, and I rather think he likes being the victim in his story.”

“But he was. At school.”

He gave Remus a knowing look out of the corner of his eye as they still faced down the corridor Snape had gone down. “I do recall that he often gave back just as good as he got. And...childhood is difficult. The teenage years particularly, I have found, as we seem to have a never ending supply of case studies in our halls every year. It is the choice of those who are hurt how they will try to heal and in my estimation, Severus has not chosen to grow past this hurt, but rather grow around it and within it. It can be easier than trying to recognize your own shortcomings. Ah, but enough gossip!” He clapped his hands together and beamed, looking Remus up and down. “Staff meeting!”

Remus devoured this experience eagerly, being the first teacherly meeting he’d partaken in. They talked about the incident on the train and when he began to bring up his offended opinions, the look on Dumbledore’s face cut him short; he knew. He agreed. He would make himself heard to those who needed to hear it. Remus was satisfied.

They shared about their summers and milestones, joys, and hardships they had come across since they had last been together. Snape stayed silent, arms and ankles crossed, shooting dark looks at Remus, which seemed to be standard as no one tried to engage him further. Hagrid and Professor Flitwick were quite chatty and he met a few other Professors he hadn’t had much contact with as a student. McGonagall, Sprout, Sinestra, Pomfrey. most all of them welcomed him warmly into the fold, with only a few embarrassing ‘I remember when you…’ stories. Filch was taking a leaf from Snape’s book and lurked cantankerously near the door, eying him suspiciously as if he were about to pull out a dungbomb and set it off right then. Remus tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the man just said, “Pah!”

As they concluded the meeting, McGonagall and Dumbledore rose to speak to him, both regarding him gravely. “I was extremely perturbed to hear that you were evicted, Lupin,” McGonagall said reprovingly.

He had no idea what to say to that. Sorry? “Er…”

“Remus, you could have asked to stay--” Dumbledore began and then stopped himself, shook his head. “You’re allowed to ask for help, my boy. You could have stayed here, if you were having these problems.”

Remus just looked at him blankly. It had never even occurred to him to reach out; never occurred to him that anyone would care at all where he had stayed. And Dumbledore seemed to realize this. “Here, come,” he said warmly, and held out a long, shepherding hand. “Let me show you to your rooms.”

Rooms. Plural.

As they walked, Remus’ ears heated when his heart plucked at the thing he so wanted to say, but almost feared looking at it directly. Lest it disappear. “I--I wanted to thank you, Professor. Snape told me about the Wolfsbane Potion and...frankly, I’m so honored that you would let me have this opportunity. You don’t know what this means to me.”

The bright blue eyes that turned on him were kind. “No, I don’t think I ever could, fully. Which is why I wanted to do this. Just do your best, Remus. That’s all anyone can ever ask.”

“Done, sir.”

#my stuff #ficlet #Remus LUpin and the Prisoner of Azkaban #Wow I feel like this is so disjointed and weird I wrote it throughout the day #Plus Remus seems way more willing to cut Snape some slack than I am hats off to him I guess

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rose-of-pollux · 7 years ago

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The Beast of Broadway Affair (MFU fic), part 2/5

Here is the full version of chapter two, and expanded version of this drabble.

Title: The Beast of Broadway Affair Rating: PG13 (for action/danger) Chapter summary: As Illya begins to figure out what has been going on, Napoleon, in a panic, makes a foolish decision in the hopes of preventing another transformation. Notes: This version of the fic (cross-posted to AO3) is slash; if you prefer reading gen, there is a gen version on ff.net, but I can’t link to it with tumblr’s new linking restrictions

Act II: Both a Little Scared

Illya forced himself along inside Medical as Napoleon underwent blood tests. He hadn’t revealed the nature of their concerns, only that he wanted an analysis on account of Napoleon “having had trouble sleeping,” and nothing more. Having worked in Section VIII, Illya did the analysis personally as Napoleon watched over his shoulder, nervously.

“What’s wrong with me…?” he asked.

Illya exhaled as he looked over the results.

“I do not know exactly what was given to you, but it is clear to me that you have been drugged,” he announced.

“What!?”

“I do not have a proper sample of whatever it was that was given to you—it has metabolized, but there are still traces of it,” Illya said. “Obviously, part of its function is to prevent your recollection of the drug being administered, as well as what occurs during your transformation.”

“And what is it that actually gets me to transform?” Napoleon asked.

“It would seem that the traces of the drug suggest that it reacts with adrenaline in your system,” Illya said. “The drug is injected, and stays dormant until your adrenaline spikes; the ensuing reaction causes the transformation until the adrenaline levels reduce again—after which, you would immediately fall asleep due to exhaustion. Obviously, THRUSH was keeping a close eye on your during your excursions; once you returned to your human self, they would bring you back, put you in a new THRUSH prisoner uniform, and you would be unaware that you had left your cell as a monster, leading you to think that they hadn’t touched you. When, in reality…” He indicated Napoleon’s sleeve, and they both watched as Napoleon rolled his shirtsleeve up. Illya took a look with a magnifying glass and exhaled. “See? Needle marks—barely visible. Some have already healed.”

“But it’s over now, right?” Napoleon asked.

“These multiple puncture wounds suggest that the drug needed to be repeatedly administered to you to keep the transformations going,” Illya said. “They must have given you one more dose before they fled and left the facility. But what puzzles me is what could have gotten your adrenaline to spike while you were sleeping?”

Napoleon cleared his throat, looking embarrassed.

“…Well, ah, you were… Sort of… Doing that really cute snore thing that you do sometimes, and…” He blushed slightly. “Well, ah… You were really cute, okay, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I just… suffered internally.”

“…I see,” Illya said, keeping his expression neutral. “Well, that would explain it. But, at any rate, I want to believe that it is over.”

“…You want to… Why? Is there a chance that it might not be?”

“Perhaps…” Illya said. “There could be a chance that, rather than simply being metabolized, the drug could have been stored somewhere in your body, such as in the liver or adipose tissue—in which case, if it were released, you could transform again if your adrenaline spiked.”

“That’s… not good,” Napoleon said.

“Not at all,” Illya agreed. “But in addition to finding an antidote to this drug, we also need to find out who in THRUSH is behind this, and why did they decide to do this? The transformation is only temporary; what would they hope to gain by spreading panic?”

“There’s… one other important thing we need to find out as soon as possible,” Napoleon added, his face going even more grim.

“What’s that?”

“…Did I actually hurt anyone—or worse?”

“Oh, Napoleon…”

“Maybe that was what THRUSH wanted…” Napoleon said. “Confirm that someone got hurt by the Beast of Broadway, and then step forward with proof that I’m the Beast! Mr. Waverly would be forced to fire me—if not have me put away!”

“Napoleon!” Illya chided. “I refuse to even consider the idea that you have attacked anyone! I would need documented evidence—a police report of some kind, and even then, I would still remain skeptical!”

“…You’re the only one in the world who would…” Napoleon sighed. “And I’m grateful for that.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“Of course,” Napoleon said.

Illya nodded, and then sighed.

“I know you are concerned—so am I. And I gave you my word that I would help you. And I will. But I need to find out all I can about this drug first,” Illya said. “I need to run a few more tests on these traces. Why don’t you go to our office and relax? I will meet you there when I am finished.”

“And then what do we do?” Napoleon asked.

“Then, just to put your mind at ease, we will go over the incident reports about the Beast of Broadway—both here and with the New York Police. You will see that there have been no attacks, and that will help to quell that fear.”

“Actually, why don’t I look at the U.N.C.L.E. reports now?” Napoleon asked. “While you’re working on this?”

“I would rather we did so together,” Illya said. “…And we should do so at home. These reports won’t be classified; I can take them with us, and we can look over them there.” He paused, seeing the look on Napoleon’s face. “Why don’t you stay here with me, then? I know the work is boring, but I will keep you company.”

“No…” Napoleon said. “No, I’ll… I’ll be at our office for a while. Maybe I’ll just try to clear my mind and see if I can recall anything about what happened…”

Illya was beginning to regret suggesting Napoleon go to their office, but now that he had suggested it and Napoleon was wandering off, there wasn’t much he could do other than hope that Napoleon wouldn’t get too upset.

Napoleon was worried, even as he went up to their office and laid down on the couch, trying to recall. He concentrated, using some of the tactics taught in Survival School about retrieving repressed memories.

He could recall flashes of sights and sounds—faces and chatter, mostly in the THRUSH facility… But then…

Napoleon sat bolt upright as one flashing image was clearly of the top of the Majestic Theatre; he seemed to have been perched upon the marquee of Fiddler on the Roof, if his point-of-view was accurate—and there were numerous people below on the sidewalk and street, gasping and pointing at him, as growls and roars issued from his throat as he seemingly leaped from the marquee, over the people below, and bounded off down the street towards Sardi’s restaurant.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he murmured, recalling what Illya had said about the possibility of it occurring if his adrenaline spiked.

He broke and returned to Medical, requesting sedatives; they refused, claiming that Section II agents were not to be administered sedatives except under emergency situations. Still too worried to think straight, Napoleon left a message for Illya that he was going home, and then proceeded to return to their apartment building—but knocked on the door of the apartment that belonged to one of the neighbors on their floor—Dr. Fisk. He had seen him in passing a couple times, but, since Napoleon usually went to Medical, hadn’t requested his services—until now.

He spun a tale to Dr. Fisk about an elevated heart rate that was concerning him and requested a mild sedative.

“I really should be issuing this with a prescription,” Fisk was saying, readying a syringe with a pale, pink liquid. “But you’ve never asked this of me before, so I know it must be an emergency. Are you certain about this, Mr. Solo?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am—it’s kind of important,” Napoleon said, realizing he was making an incredibly hasty and foolish decision, but was desperate to keep his adrenaline levels down to prevent another transformation. He’d just ask for an extended leave from U.N.C.L.E. so that he wouldn’t be sedated on the job, he rationalized, as he rolled up his sleeve. He exhaled as Dr. Fisk administered the drug. “Thanks, Doc. How much do I owe you?”

“No charge,” Fisk insisted. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah,” Napoleon said, pulling his sleeve back down. “Please, if Illya comes by asking about me, don’t tell him what I did. He’d be furious and say I was stupid—and I probably am.”

“Of course,” Fisk said, and he nervously watched as Napoleon dashed out of the apartment, heading for the one he shared with Illya.

Fisk glanced at the carpet, where he knew the cold man from a few days ago had planted a listening device. And, sure enough, his phone rang.

“Professor Gaston?” Fisk asked, flinching at the sound of the cold voice on the line. “I did what you asked. Please… Just leave me alone, huh? I could lose my license if this ever got out--” He cringed. “Yes, Professor Gaston. I’m… I’m aware that THRUSH could make me lose a whole lot more than that…”

***************************

Napoleon made it home and was on the couch petting Baba Yaga minutes before Illya stormed in.

“What were you thinking, running off by yourself like that!?” the Russian demanded. “I am supposed to be helping you--!”

“I know, I know,” Napoleon sighed. “But you know Medical. They wouldn’t give me anything to keep my adrenaline down, and I had to get home in case I transformed again.”

Illya sighed, sitting on the couch beside him.

“Well, I brought home the reports. I’ve skimmed though them already, and there are no reports of the Beast attacking anyone.”

“Right, right…”

“We can look over them in-depth now. And you should also try to remember what happened during your captivity.”

“I don’t really remember much—just being in a cell all the time…” Napoleon mused, closing his eyes. “…And one moment when I was the Beast—just a moment, though. I was on the roof of the Majestic, and I jumped from there to the street and ran towards Sardi’s.”

“…Then you are able to partly resist the memory effects of the drug,” Illya said. “Can you recall anything else?”

“Mmh,” Napoleon grunted in frustration. “I’m trying to think…”

“Just let it return to you,” Illya said, calmly. “Even if it is in bits and pieces—any little thing will be helpful.”

Napoleon concentrated, and then frowned.

“Pictures…”

“Hmm?”

“I remember being shown pictures,” Napoleon recalled. “A man showed them to me… He wore a lab coat.”

“Do you recognize him?” Illya asked.

“No,” Napoleon said. “But I think I remember one of the lab assistants calling him ‘Professor Gaston.’ They gave him pictures for me to see.”

“Do you remember what those pictures were?” Illya asked.

Napoleon tried to recall them, but shook his head.

“…No idea. …Wait!”

“You remember?”

“Some of them!” Napoleon said. “They showed me… centerfolds, at first.”

Illya gave a snort of disgust and then rolled his eyes.

“No, I’m serious,” Napoleon said. “They tried to show me centerfolds—I guess to get my adrenaline up? But it didn’t work.”

“…Didn’t work?”

“Nope. I remember that Professor Gaston saying that I wasn’t responding to the models, and they had to try another approach.” He looked at Illya and smiled. “Guess some members of THRUSH still haven’t got the message that women don’t catch my eye anymore since I’ve been in a relationship…”

“Well, I am very happy to hear that I am successfully satisfying your romantic needs,” Illya said, smiling back. But his smile faded. “But something did trigger your adrenaline to spike—they eventually showed something that did affect you. Do you recall what it was?”

Napoleon concentrated again, and his face fell.

“…They eventually did get the message…” he recalled.

“…They showed you pictures of me…” Illya realized. “Oh, Napoleon…”

“Not just pictures of you… Filmstrips, too—of them torturing you…” Napoleon’s breathing rate increased, and Illya’s face paled.

“Napoleon--!” he said, urgently, but was cut off.

“There was even one…” Napoleon said, clenching his fists as Baba Yaga fled from his lap to the coffee table, concerned again. “Of them putting you in a coffin… I… I just… couldn’t…” He trailed off, his words disappearing into an animalistic snarl.

“Nyet! Napoleon, listen to me! Stay calm—you simply must stay calm! It’s happening again—the substance hasn’t completely metabolized!”

“Illya… Help me…”

Illya responded by hugging Napoleon, hoping his touch would be enough to calm him. He could feel his partner shake violently once again. Illya wasn’t a praying man, but now, he was begging for some sort of miracle. Thankfully, after a moment, it subsided as Napoleon calmed down.

“That was too close,” Illya said, still hugging his partner close. “We shall need to be careful as we figure this out.”

Napoleon managed a shaky nod. “Th-thanks,” he stammered.

He could, at least, be grateful that he wasn’t in this alone.

#Napoleon Solo #Illya Kuryakin #napollya #the man from uncle #mfu fic #The Beast of Broadway Affair

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aceprosecuties · 8 years ago

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This has taken far too much time to get out, and for that I’m sorry, but here is part eight of my Blackmadhi series ‘The Dawn Will Come’! This is most likely the second-to-last chapter and introduces Amara into the story! Thank you for all your patience with me! 5576 words.

AO3 Link

As promised, Rayfa had ordered the chefs to prepare a banquet for the royal siblings and their guest to celebrate Nahyuta and Simon’s victory in court. While Nahyuta was still curious about what she and Simon had spoken about during their little outing after the trial, he figured it was something that he could speak with her at a later time about (especially considering that Simon continually refused to speak about the specifics no matter how many times he inquired about them). For now, though, he was just happy to see that the two of them were apparently getting along…as well as they probably could get along anyway.

After all, when they all congregated for dinner in the main dining hall, Simon was still teasing Rayfa and calling her by the nickname he established for her. And Rayfa would try and retaliate but would become flustered and would stomp her feet, causing Simon to just laugh and rustle her feathers even more.

But Nahyuta smiled – they liked each other, in their own unique ways. It was obvious. Unlike previously, there was no maliciousness in anything they were saying, and he swore that he actually saw Rayfa smile uncharacteristically warmly at Simon when his eyes were placed on something other than her.

Rather than wait for a servant to do it, Nahyuta pulled out a chair for Simon, and was about to take a seat next to him when he heard a calm voice from the entryway.

“A king offering his guest a seat before himself? That’s unexpected.”

Simon could swear he had yet to see Nahyuta’s head whip around quite that fast before. When they all looked over towards the unexpected visitor, Simon saw a tall and very lovely woman gracefully walking towards the table. She had a flower pinned in her long almost-white hair and had markings on her face that slightly resembled Rayfa’s, only hers seemed more elaborate.

Judging from her appearance and her regal atmosphere Simon believed that she must be-

“Mother,” Nahyuta addressed the woman, rushing over to her and bowing slightly before kissing her hand. “What are you doing here? I was told that you wouldn’t be back until this weekend.” Simon wasn’t really sure what the protocol was in terms of what he should do, so he watched as Rayfa stood up from her seat at the table, and mirrored her actions.

“Well, when I hear through the grapevine that my son has brought a consort back to the palace with him, I had to come see for myself.” Her eyes traveled from Nahyuta to Simon, and Simon felt more than a bit uncomfortable under her clearly judgmental gaze. “Is this him?”

“Ah…yes. Mother, this is Prosecutor Simon Blackquill.” Nahyuta brought the former queen close enough so that Simon was at arm’s length with her, but he didn’t hold his hand out to shake hers…simply because he wasn’t sure if that would be considered rude at all. What was the proper procedure for something like this, anyway? “Simon this is Her Mercifulness Amara Sigatar Khura’in, former queen and…my mother.”

“Your Highness,” Simon greeted with a polite…and very small bow. He didn’t like the idea of bowing to anyone, but he figured that he probably should try to be cordial with Nahyuta’s mother. After all, he had no idea what power she still held – she might have been the former queen, but that still had to carry a decent amount of weight amongst at least the guards.

“Your Mercifulness,” Amara corrected, smiling. Despite the upward curving of her mouth, Simon could tell that she was not exactly happy – there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t entirely read…she shared that similar aura of mysteriousness with her son. Perhaps she didn’t like the way he looked – not surprising, as he was not dressed for a royal court and didn’t look even half as elegant as her children. Or maybe she just was uncomfortable with the idea that Nahyuta brought back a foreign stranger to the palace at all without first getting her approval.

“My mistake,” Simon said, still trying and failing to read her expression. It was frustrating, and he knew he had to be a bit more delicate with his interactions with her than with her children. “I hope I didn’t insult you.”

“Not at all,” she said, continuing to smile that unfriendly smile. Simon hated it. It reminded him of too many false grins he once believed were true. “But I am surprised that Nahyuta did not inform you of my proper title prior to this.” She flashed a look of what Simon could only guess was distaste at her son.

“I didn’t think you two would be meeting, is all, so there was no need. But, now that you’re here, shall we eat?” Nahyuta was clearly uncomfortable despite his politeness; his entire body had stiffened and his posture had even straightened slightly, which Simon hadn’t even thought possible before.

“Yes, I think that is a good idea.”

Before Amara could sit down, Rayfa ran over to greet her mother; Simon noted that the former queen’s expression transformed into one that was much warmer and more genuine when she looked at her daughter. The two spoke in their native tongue as they went back to the table and took their seats; Simon was careful to not do so before either one of them.

“So,” Amara broke the silence that had passed over the table as they were served. “Prosecutor Blackquill, is it?” Simon nodded, and she continued. “I should congratulate you for your victory in court today.”

“Thank you.” Simon’s reply was curt but not necessarily rude.

“Though, from my reports, it was not the smoothest of victories.”

Nahyuta grabbed Simon’s hand under the table, squeezing it tightly. Deep down, Simon knew that Amara was doing what all mother-hen type parents would do: grill their child’s new partner to make sure that they were an acceptable candidate for their precious baby. Amara probably didn’t want Nahyuta picking a consort whom she did not feel was worthy of his attention, and…most likely saw practically everybody as exactly that.

Still…he just had this conversation with Rayfa earlier. He didn’t want to have it again.

“No, but Nahyuta and I still defeated our opponent swiftly enough,” Simon said, resisting the urge to grind his teeth together. “The battlefield of the courtroom isn’t always clean and can often be unforgiving, but as long as the truth is revealed, it is never injudicious.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Amara mused, taking a bite of food with her eyes closed. “But would the truth have been revealed if you didn’t have an ally by your side?” She took another bite, and Simon had to focus on breathing deeply in order to keep himself calm. “It makes me wonder about your competence as a lone prosecutor.”

“Mother!”

Both siblings made the same outburst, which surprised both Amara and Simon. Neither Nahyuta nor Rayfa looked happy, and Amara seemed confused – she expected Nahyuta to protest, but Rayfa? Had this foreign prosecutor really wormed his way into both of her children’s hearts already?

Who exactly was he?

“Prosecutor Blackquill and I already had this conversation, Mother,” Rayfa said, coming to Simon’s defense and echoing his internal thoughts exactly. Nahyuta looked at Simon, still wishing that he had given him some of the details of their encounter outside the city. “Frankly…he is stronger than you think.” She was direct with her words, but couldn’t make eye contact with anyone at the table. “You shouldn’t judge him so harshly…”

“Thank you, Rayfa-hime,” Simon couldn’t help but say. When she glanced up at him, his smile caused her to blush furiously in embarrassment and she immediately began fussily pushing her food around her plate.

“Well,” Amara sighed after a few terribly uncomfortable moments of silence. “It seems I have upset both of my children and perhaps owe you an apology, Prosecutor Blackquill, as what occurred clearly involves a…personal matter.”

“…Thank you, Your Mercifulness,” was all Simon could think to say.

The remainder of dinner was mostly uneventful, with Amara questioning Rayfa about her progress in spirit channeling, and Simon just wanting to retreat with Nahyuta back to the latter’s room so he could escape the gaze of the queen mother. Despite her apology, Simon knew that she was still suspicious of him, for whatever reason, and he had no desire to stay around her for much longer.

“If I may, Mother,” Nahyuta eventually said when everyone appeared to have finished what was on their plates. “Prosecutor Blackquill and I are going to retire to my chambers now.”

“You two certainly move quickly, don’t you? I mean, you’re not even married,” Amara remarked, again flashing a look at Simon; it made him feel like a kid facing down his date’s parent for the first time on prom night. “Irregular for our rulers…but not our regents, I know.” She added on that last part when Nahyuta opened his mouth to protest. “It is just an…interesting observation.”

“Good night, Mother.”

Nahyuta walked out of the room with a certain dignity and class that Simon knew he would never be able to achieve. Once the two of them were alone in the hallway, Nahyuta groaned loudly, finally expressing his true frustration, and pushed his bangs back from in front of his eyes. “I’m…sorry about that, Simon. I never expected her to just…show up.” Nahyuta loved his mother dearly but also knew how protective she was over him and his sister. If he had been able to speak with her prior to this, maybe he would have been able to alleviate some of her initial instincts to stare down Simon as if he was some fierce enemy coming to snatch her child away.

“She’s certainly…regal,” Simon commented, carefully choosing a word that wasn’t insulting, but also wasn’t really friendly. He didn’t want Nahyuta to think that he believed that meeting went at all well.

“Now, are you learning to be political? That’s unlike you,” Nahyuta observed, with a sly grin forming on his perfect face. Simon just crossed his arms and stared ahead, pointedly refusing to look at Nahyuta.

“Even I know when and when not to say something.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

Simon finally turned with a scowl, but the insult he had prepared in his head got stuck in his throat when he looked at Nahyuta. He was laughing, but…it was almost a giggle. In his eyes was a mischievous innocence…as oxymoronic as that sounded, and his lips were parted in a smile that showed off his perfect white teeth.

Simon felt his face heat up slightly. Had he ever encountered someone quite so lovely before?

He already knew the answer to that, so he just turned away with a huff.

Nahyuta was about to say something else, but they both heard the familiar sound of rings jingling. It was getting rapidly closer, and the two turned around to see the high priestess running towards them.

“Your benevolence,” Nahyuta greeted her once she stopped in front of them. “May I help you with something?”

“Actually,” she said, quickly catching her breath. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Um…” Her eyes went from Nahyuta and then to Simon, and then darted back to Nahyuta again. “Alone.”

“Rayfa what could-”

“It’s alright, Nahyuta,” Simon interrupted. “Rayfa-hime and I already had our private chat, so I suppose it is your turn.” He turned to her. “Try not to keep him too long.”

“I’ll keep him as long as I need to, panda head!”

Despite her protest, Simon smiled.

“You know the way?”

Simon nodded at Nahyuta’s question and left the two siblings to their discussion.

He felt somewhat proud of himself for not having to ask a guard or servant for directions back to Nahyuta’s room. The bed appeared to be in pristine condition – someone must have come into the room earlier that day and put all the pillows and blankets that he and Nahyuta had dragged onto the floor back into their proper place.

Simon thought for a moment.

Instead of re-setting up their floor bed, he sat down on the mattress.

It was plush…definitely fit for a gorgeous king like Nahyuta. Not so much for an ex-convict like him. Then again…nothing in this palace was fit for him, was it? Queen Amara made that quite clear without having to even say it. It wasn’t a truth he was unacquainted with, really. His newfound friendship with Rayfa and his…relationship – if one could call it that – with Nahyuta made him feel more welcome, yes, but he was under no delusion that he belonged here.

Nahyuta did though.

Something in his chest hurt when he thought that.

To keep his mind occupied and off that particular topic, he pulled out his phone and texted Athena. Despite the time difference, he figured it was late enough in the morning over in Los Angeles that she would be awake.

Are you still picking me up from the airport?

He stared at the screen as he waited for her to reply, hoping that she wasn’t too busy to respond to him. Luckily, he wasn’t waiting for very long.

Yeah! Remind me when you get back again?

The clicking noise of his touchscreen’s keyboard seemed to fill the room. For some reason, it never really bothered him, and he felt no need to disable it. Plus, it drove some of his coworkers and friends crazy, which meant he had to keep it just to annoy them.

Day after tomorrow. I’m set to land at around noon.

Time differences meant that he was leaving in the morning and arriving to the states in the morning despite around a fifteen hour flight. He was not looking forward to that flight for a number of reasons, the greatest of which was that he would have a stranger sitting next to him instead of the person he wanted by his side.

Great! You owe me a ton of stories, Simon! Can’t wait to see you! <3

Simon smiled – it would be bittersweet, leaving Khura’in. On one hand, he was returning home to Athena and his other friends (…mostly Athena, really). Deep down, he missed her terribly, though he knew she would be relentless in her questions about his trip. And she would inevitably find out about his feelings towards Nahyuta and probably would spend the next few days just teasing him about it, in her own way.

He knew she just wanted him to be happy.

On the other hand…he was leaving Nahyuta behind. He would return to his home and to his Nahyuta-less nights where he no longer had his presence to comfort him and rouse him from his nightmares. It would be cold and lonely, and he wouldn’t be able to stare into Nahyuta’s green eyes anymore when he was feeling lost. No more getting frustrated with how beautiful the regent was at all times…

Simon sighed, and actually leaned back so he was lying down on the bed. It felt weird on his back, but he ignored it as he stared up at the ceiling.

He wondered if he would ever be able to return to Khura’in again. Would it be alright to visit even while not on official business? Nahyuta had been occupied with him now mostly because they were on the same case; Simon couldn’t imagine that Nahyuta could just give all his time to him in the same way otherwise. Would Edgeworth ever reach out to Nahyuta to ask him for his help again? The prosecutor’s office was still understaffed…Simon liked the idea of Nahyuta returning to the states and staying in his home…though his apartment was not nearly as impressive as this palace.

But…Nahyuta was the current leader of his country…Edgeworth probably would not be seeking his help anytime soon, knowing how busy he was and how many responsibilities he had to his people and his family.

Simon’s stomach felt uncomfortable and twisted.

When would he be able to see Nahyuta again after all of this?

Perhaps…it was for the best that this arrangement of theirs was temporary. After all, how long would Nahyuta want to sleep on the floor next to him and wake him from nightmares that were still centered on a man long dead and on the shadow of the one who impersonated him?

Even though he was lost in his own thoughts, Simon still clearly heard the opening of the door and the footsteps of a person entering the bedchamber. He sat up and saw Nahyuta shutting the door behind him; he strode across the room to sit on the foot of the bed. He began removing his shoes silently.

Something was wrong.

“…Is everything alright?” Simon asked from his position on the mattress. He was staring at Nahyuta’s back, but although he could not see his face, Simon could feel that something was bothering Nahyuta, who didn’t seem to even hear his question. “What did Rayfa-hime want to talk with you about?” He rephrased and amplified his voice a little bit, hoping that he would be able to prompt some sort of a response.

“Hm?” Nahyuta finally reacted, but didn’t appear to have processed the inquiry. “What was that?”

“Rayfa-hime. What did she want?”

“Oh…um…” Nahyuta’s voice trailed off, and Simon felt worried at the obvious hesitation. “You’ll find out.”

Well aware that his answer was not exactly what Simon had been looking for, Nahyuta turned a bit so that Simon could see his face. He offered him some semblance of a smile, but Simon knew that something was deeply troubling him. Why didn’t he want to tell him? Did he not trust him enough? Nahyuta knew much of Simon’s own issues…did he not think that Simon could handle knowing his?

Rather than protest or force Nahyuta into talking, Simon just crawled closer to him. When he stopped, he gently took hold of Nahyuta’s braid and slowly began undoing it. Nahyuta’s hair was fine and smooth like silk, and felt soft against Simon’s calloused and rough hands. Simon’s fingers moved meticulously – he did not wish to tangle any of the luxurious strands. To do so would surely be some sort of crime.

Nahyuta hummed and seemed to relax somewhat, but Simon could tell that there was still something at his core that was bothering him. What on earth could Rayfa have spoken to him about to cause him such distress?

As Simon finished, Nahyuta’s hair sprawled out across the mattress and Simon’s lap, and he brushed it effortlessly with his fingers. How long they sat like that, Simon wasn’t sure, but he knew they could be there like that for hours and it still would not be enough for him.

“Shall we set up on the floor again?”

Simon thought for a moment before answering. “Maybe…we could try staying on the bed. I’m sure the floor hasn’t been all that comfortable for you.”

Nahyuta turned around with a concerned expression.

“But what about-”

“Nahyuta. You’ve done so much for me already throughout this trip. The least I could do for you is actually try to sleep somewhere that won’t bother you so much.”

Before Nahyuta could protest again, Simon placed his hand on the back of Nahyuta’s head to pull him in and bring their lips together. He felt Nahyuta smile against him as they fell back, their limbs becoming entangled as they refused to pull apart from one another.

-----

A familiar scene.

With darkness surrounding him on all sides, Simon finds himself in chains. However, he isn’t hanging with his arms suspended in the air, which offers some false semblance of freedom as he finds himself able to move around. The sound of his chain – connected to a metal shackle around his neck – shatters that impression.

Simon wanders, not sure exactly what or whom he is looking for. He blindly tries to navigate the blackness, but isn’t sure if he is going in circles or if he is actually progressing forward at all.

Eventually – after an indeterminate amount of time – he sees a figure in the distance, illuminated like some bright star that he is instantly drawn towards. Simon heads in that direction, and as he gets closer, the figures features become clearer to him. Lilac hair in a braid, golden boots with white pants…there was no doubt that the mysterious figure was Nahyuta, his back facing Simon.

Simon tries to call out to him, but finds his voice to be absent; when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out despite how much he feels he is screaming.

No matter…he continues his approach, and is slightly more than an arm’s length away when he is pulled back roughly. He stumbles back and almost falls to the ground, but is quickly able to adjust his footing to stabilize himself. His head whips around to see his unfortunately familiar captor.

The Phantom is – as usual – wearing Fulbright’s face. He is holding onto the end Simon’s chain with both of his hands, smiling that damn cheerful smile that is full of nothing but lies and deceit. Simon tries yelling; he tries to scream at the Phantom to release him, but his voice box remains broken and silent. He looks back at Nahyuta…maybe if he runs to him he can free himself from the fake Fulbright’s grip…

Nope.

He is yanked back again, and this time ends up falling to the floor as the force of the pull chokes him and strains his neck; his head hits the ground with such vigor that he feels dizzy and is surprised that his skull remains intact. The Phantom laughs at his misfortune, which spurs Simon to try escaping from his hold again. He crawls to his feet and tries to push forward towards Nahyuta, who was still not facing him. Even though he knows his voice is not working, he tries once again to call Nahyuta’s name.

He’s pulled back. More and more and more until Nahyuta seems so far away from him and he feels the false detective’s torso pressed against his back. Even though he wants to fight, Simon finds all his energy drained away the moment a gloved hand reaches around and gently wraps around his shackled throat. He can feel the Phantom’s breath in his ear as fingers began to constrict…the metal seems to practically give way as if it were cloth.

And then, suddenly, a second hand reaches for his neck.

Simon looks to the side as much as he can to see a figure with his own face.

His Fool Bright and his doppelganger actually lace their fingers together in a faux romantic gesture around his throat and begin squeezing. They tighten their grip more and more until Simon finds it difficult to even gasp for air…

He reaches out towards the figure that he knows is Nahyuta, in some futile gesture that he deep down knows will not cause Nahyuta to turn and see him.

Please.

His mouth forms that one word before his vision goes black.

And he’s immediately woken up to Nahyuta’s face.

“…Sorry.” His voice is hoarse – he was almost expecting no sound to come out of his mouth when he spoke. Simon knew that he was sweating – he could feel the dampness on his face and back, and he sat up from the bed with an audible groan.

“How many times must I tell you that apologizing is unnecessary?” Nahyuta didn’t seem to care about the wet spots that Simon left on his sheets and pillows, and even kissed his forehead. “You actually made it through the night tonight.”

At that observation, Simon took the time to look around – Nahyuta was right. According to the clock, it was just before time for the morning prayer, so Nahyuta was probably going to wake him up soon anyway.

Some progress, apparently.

“I should…probably shower.”

Nahyuta had apparently woken up much earlier and so was already dressed and ready for the day.

“Take your time. I doubt that you would want to rush in order to go to the temple anyway.”

“You already know me so well, Sad Monk.”

Truthfully, Simon was curious about the morning ritual, but – as Nahyuta said – he was in no mood to rush in order to get over there in time. He was still a bit shaky due to his nightmare, and felt like he needed quite the lengthy shower in order to cleanse himself, both physically and mentally. If he was being honest with himself, he could swear that he still felt the constricting of hands around his throat, and he was a bit perturbed with the image of his double locking hands with the Phantom in order to choke the life from him.

Surely, like all of his nightmares, it had a meaning. One that probably was smacking him in the face. But also one that he felt no desire to decipher at the moment.

Simon spent his long shower just trying to clear his head of the remnants of his nightmare. It was difficult – he just couldn’t shake the feeling of breathlessness or the image of Nahyuta slipping further and further away from him. The feeling of hopelessness settling in and eradicating all his energy to fight against his captor…

He growled and punched the wall of the shower in his frustration.

And he stayed in there long enough for Nahyuta to have returned by the time he finally got out.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he answered, partially lying. But, rather than continue to dwell on that, he quickly added: “So, I hope you have something interesting planned for my last day here, Sad Monk. We actually don’t have work so you better be able to keep me entertained.”

Nahyuta laughed and Simon could swear it sounded like music.

“I’m always prepared, Panda. I thought you would have learned that very important lesson after our first meeting.” Yes, Simon remembered all too well when he tried to challenge Nahyuta’s knowledge of rakugo in court and Nahyuta answered him more adequately than he could have possibly imagined.

“Ever think that I just didn’t want to learn that particular lesson then? I mean, you were trying to get my favorite soba shop closed down.”

“Correction: I was trying to get a defendant declared guilty. Your restaurant closing would have just been an…unpleasant side-effect,” Nahyuta said, bringing his hand up as he explained. “How unfortunate it would have been for you to have to find a new place to spend money.”

“Sarcasm does not suit a king, you know.”

“It’s a good thing I’m a king-regent, then.”

Simon couldn’t help it – he laughed. Nahyuta always had a good comeback. “How fortunate for me to have someone of such high status acting as my personal tour guide.”

Nahyuta smiled and grabbed Simon’s hand. “Let’s go.”

-----

Simon didn’t want to admit that he felt like a love-struck teenager throughout the entire damn day.

Nahyuta took him around the city, to some of his favorite shops and places. Most people were happy to see their regent just walking around and would say hello to him nervously or enthusiastically, depending on the individual. And Nahyuta was friendly with all of them; there appeared to be only love between him and his people, at least from what Simon so casually observed. And when they were friendly to Nahyuta, they were friendly to Simon, despite how frightening he appeared next to their beautiful royal.

They would just be walking around and Nahyuta would grab hold of Simon’s hand or his arm and Simon could feel his heart speed up. It was stupid and he thought himself foolish, but he also refused to pull away. If he pulled away, he knew he would miss Nahyuta’s warmth.

Nahyuta took him to a mountain that he wasn’t allowed to go up due to it being “sacred.” Secretly, Simon was happy about this development, since it meant he didn’t have to make that tedious climb and he could instead just remain on (relatively) flat land where the air wasn’t so thin. They passed by some praying monks, who didn’t stop their task as they walked. Simon joked about how they reminded him of the British Royal Guard, and asked Nahyuta if he could mess with them somehow to see if they would crack.

Unsurprisingly, Nahyuta refused. But the mental image was enough to get him to chuckle, at least, so Simon considered it to be somewhat of a victory.

The day was perfect – sunny but not overly warm, with a nice cool breeze that kept them both comfortable and close to each other. They stayed away from heavy topics for once, talking about more lighthearted things like Nahyuta’s fondness for burgers and the pranks that Simon often played on his fellow coworkers.

Sadly, it all went by so quickly, and before Simon knew it, the sun had begun to set and they were back in the palace’s dining hall.

Simon was surprised that Rayfa and Queen Amara did not join the two of them for dinner. While he was relieved to not have to deal with Amara’s pestering and her empty judgmental smiles…he admittedly missed Rayfa a little bit. Now that he thought about it…he hadn’t seen either one of them all day.

“So, am I going to be able to say goodbye to Rayfa-hime before I leave tomorrow?” He asked the question after the two of them finished their meal – which took surprisingly long, as Nahyuta was eating almost painstakingly slow for some reason – not wanting to bring up the subject of his departure for fear that it would spoil his appetite.

“…Right.” Nahyuta’s face suddenly fell; perhaps he also did not want to think about Simon returning home. “Actually, she has been preparing something for you,” he said quietly. “She requested that I take you to her after we finished eating.”

He sighed as he sat up from the table and gestured for Simon to follow him out of the room. Even his pace was far slower than usual, which made Simon hesitant. “Nahyuta? Is…everything alright?”

“…I’m not sure.”

Nahyuta refused to elaborate, and just stared ahead as they made their way through the palace. Eventually they stopped at a closed door, and Nahyuta hesitated in opening it. “…Simon.” He turned his face so that he was looking into Simon’s eyes, and Simon could see only profound sadness in them. It was as if he was already mourning something or someone that had not yet passed…like he was expecting something to die as soon as he opened that door. “I know you don’t believe, but I thank the Holy Mother every day for bringing you here. I…only wish for you to find the happiness that you so desperately deserve.”

“Nahyuta. What’s going on?”

“You’ll see,” Nahyuta said, with a forced smile that only served to break Simon’s heart. What was happening? It sounded as though Nahyuta thought that…whatever they had was about to end as soon as he opened that door.

But he still pushed it open.

The two of them walked in, and Simon took note of how…bare the windowless room was. No furniture save for an altar on the far side….some mats had been placed on the floor and there was some spiritual Khura’inese décor hanging up on the walls. There were some candles lit which contributed soft light for illumination.

Rayfa and Amara were on the opposite end of the room; Amara was standing slightly off to the side, while Rayfa was kneeling in the middle of the floor. She was dressed in a robe that had to have been at least three sizes too big for her small frame, and her hair was out of its normal looped style and fell elegantly around her slender shoulders. Simon had so many questions, but he just followed Nahyuta’s silent lead, sitting on one of the mats on the ground.

Rayfa was mumbling softly to herself; it sounded like she was probably speaking Khura’inese, but Simon couldn’t actually hear what she was saying. Amara also appeared to be chanting something; neither of them even seemed to have noticed his or Nahyuta’s presence.

It must have been between ten and fifteen minutes that they were sitting there in that semi-silence. Simon felt itchy and uncomfortable, especially knowing that Nahyuta was unsettled about…whatever this was.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself – he turned to Nahyuta and whispered. “Nahyuta, what is going on?”

“Patience, Simon.”

“We’ve been sitting here for a while…what is supposed to be happening?”

“Hush.”

“Nahyuta, what-”

“In justice we trust!”

Simon froze.

He turned so that he was facing front again, but no longer saw Rayfa.

Instead, where she was sitting, he looked upon the face of a man with brown eyes, a cleft chin, ridiculous eyebrows, and…a bright smile. Instead of his styled brown hair, Rayfa’s black strands fell behind and in front of his shoulders, and he was wearing the robe that Simon had just seen Rayfa in not moments ago.

Simon felt like he had just been physically struck, as the air seemed to vacate his body and leave him breathless.

“F…Fool Bright?”

And the detective – the real Bobby Fulbright – smiled. It was genuine and true and Simon stared as he listened to Fulbright’s voice.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Prosecutor Blackquill.”

#ace attorney #blackmadhi #simon blackquill #nahyuta sahdmadhi #simon x nahyuta #prosecuting boyfriends #blackmadhi series #rayfa padma khura'in #queen amara #amara sigatar khura'in #blackbright #phantomquill #I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER #and I probably should have edited it one more time at least #but I wanted to just throw it out there so HERE #my writings

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